


Sailing Stranger Currents

by PaulAtreDeezNuts



Series: Copper and Gold [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Creature Fic, Hostage Situations, Kidnapping, M/M, Pirate AU, Rape/Non-con Elements, Slavery, Torture, copper and gold au, mermaid au, ron and draco mermaid au, vaguely inspired by a tumblr shitpost
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-14
Updated: 2018-09-11
Packaged: 2019-06-27 11:24:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15684462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PaulAtreDeezNuts/pseuds/PaulAtreDeezNuts
Summary: After the events of Foam on the Waves Ron has been permanently transformed into a mermaid who travels alongside his lover, Draco Malfoy, as he captains the pirate ship Imperator.Ron and Draco grow ever closer as Ron adjusts to life in the ocean and when Draco's life is endangered after a battle at sea and capture by the enemy Ron embraces the unexpected powers he's been cursed with.





	1. Surface Tension

**Author's Note:**

> AU in which all of the events of the books happened but they happened during pirate times and both twins are alive. Not at all interested in accuracy (either to canon or history, thus "pirate times"), wholly unbetaed, generally a mess but hopefully a delightful one.
> 
> Also lots of telling not showing *shrugs*

Draco had always loved the sea. With his eyes as gray as the waves and hair like sun through fog it had matched him - the cold northern waters provided a setting in which he moved naturally, camouflaged by the pale spray of the water and wholly at home with the weaving and swaying which suited him as both a sailor and a Slytherin. 

The sea was untameable and vast, cold and strong and tempting. It was all that Draco aspired to be and all that had driven him away from his family's seat of power and their conniving machinations. Lucius had wanted a duplicate of himself in miniature; a perfect replica who behaved at family dinners and would marry and mate and keep the Malfoy name afloat. Narcissa desired a decorous doll, someone who could be wrapped in velvet and silk and displayed to courts and competitors as a point of pride.

Both of them had been disappointed in their only son.

Draco was wilder than his parents, named for dragons they shouldn't have been surprised when he roared and sparked and struggled against their constraints.

The final straw for their strained relationship had been pledging Draco's allegiance to the Dark Lord without affirming that Draco would agree. He had suffered through the end of the war, quiet only to keep his parents safe, and as soon as Potter had dispatched the threat Draco had run to the rushing waves.

The danger and tension of the war had sapped Narcissa's delicate strength and she died not long after Draco left. Lucius had called his son home to berate him through the funeral. As a last resort the elder had tried to chain him below Malfoy Manor, trapping him as Voldemort had done, to beat the insolence out of his heir. Draco had emerged scarred but stronger, and had abandoned his home and his name, leaving Lucius to wallow in the weight of his mistakes.

So instead of returning to Hogwarts for an eighth year like so many of the other students Draco left for the siren call of the sea and took to the ocean like an otter. He started as a lowly crewman on a merchant ship but in a few short years was the captain of his own vessel, a small but swift craft that was welcome in every port but feared on the open ocean. Among muggle sailors the Imperator had a reputation for devilish luck and heartless cunning; frequently she was a simple freighter, carrying goods that had to arrive fast for customers who were willing to pay. And when there weren't any customers willing to pay, well, the gold kept coming and the less that was said about that the better.

Draco was happy - happier than he ever would have expected to be living among muggles and doing manual labor and feeling his face stiffen with salt. He was free. And that was what mattered.

Then one day he returned to the house of his father, intent on liberating a book of spells he had left behind many years ago. Instead of a spellbook he found a Weasley and his world changed forever.

***

The sun was red and low on the horizon as Draco and his crew prepared  for a dinner on the deck. Fred passed behind him holding a cauldron and clapped him companionably on the shoulder before levitating the kettle over the side and into Ron's reach. Ron hauled a flounder up out of the water and into the pot, muscles honed from long days of swimming glittering in the sunset that so complimented his red hair and copper scales.

"Do we have any lemons left," Hermione asked as she examined the flopping fish and put it out of its misery with a neat wave of her wand.

"Of course," Neville said, opening a cupboard behind the wheel to reveal a miniature tree, no taller than a pixie, spotted with tiny ripe lemons. He plucked two and enlarged them in his hand, passing them to Hermione, who gave him an absent peck on the cheek as she continued her wandwork, skinning and deboning the fish in midair, pulling vegetables out of a basket and zesting the lemons over the cauldron.

Neville left her to it and conjured a table as Ron was finishing his difficult climb onto the deck. "A little help," he called, as he flopped into one of the narrow shore boats that rested just inside the railing. Draco walked to his side and cast aguamenti, rapidly filling the small vessel with fresh water. Ron sighed, relieved to have water to support the massive weight of his tail on the deck.

It was all pleasant bustle and preparation. The twins bounced plates and spoons around in a merry dance that filled the air with a pleasant, clinking music. Hermione and Neville put their heads together over the cauldron, adding herbs and cream and broth while the pot floated over the deck and warmed on one of the tiny, blistering, blue fires that Hermione produced so readily.

Draco stepped back from the action and leaned against Ron's dinghy, enjoying the sight of his busy crew but glad to be out of the jostling elbows and cavorting flatware. Ron folded his arms on the ledge of the boat next to where Draco sat and rested his chin on his hands. He tilted his head to the side so it was just brushing Draco's arm. Taking the hint Draco lifted his hand to caress Ron's back, his fingers sliding from the cool water back to sun-warmed skin in a soothing interplay.

"Where's Harry," Ron asked. Draco flicked his eyes up to the top of the center mast.

"Where's Charlie," Ron asked again, with a grin this time, and Draco's eyes once more lifted heavenwards and he grinned a bit too.

"Oi, lovebirds," Ron shouted, "It may be called a crow's nest but you're not supposed to roost there! Come down, dinner's almost ready!"

Potter's messy head looked over the edge of the little observation platform. "Yeah," he called back "and knowing you there'll be none left for anyone who's half a minute late."

"I've been swimming all day," Ron replied, "after all some of us have to work for a living!"

Harry laughed and swung over the edge of the crow's nest, quickly finding purchase in the rigging. Charlie followed shortly after, his face glowing a lovely shade of pink when his feet hit the deck. Before Ron and the twins could start in on ribbing him Hermione nodded at her cauldron and levitated it toward the table.

As the crew crowded around the table Draco hung back with Ron. He watched Ron's friends and siblings laugh and dish out stew for one another with a wistful eye. He felt Ron's hand close around his wrist and squeeze gently. He squeezed back and went to the table to serve up a plate for himself and Ron.

Hermione's stew was wonderful and he told her so; eating heartily and seeing Ron pretend to do the same out of the corner of his eye. The sun set as the clatter around the table ebbed and flowed. The incomprehensible clan of gryffindors Draco had found himself surrounded by seemed to speak a language he barely understood and told stories about homes and families he couldn't imagine. Only Potter seemed to share Draco's silence when cozy remembrances of bedtime stories and hot cocoa by the fire are raised - then he'll exchange a still and knowing kind of eye contact across the deck; but it's fleeting - soon the stories will shift to teen years and pranks and Potter is back in the mix. He may have been orphaned at one point but the Weasleys had long been his family.

At some point during the retelling of another family legend (thoughtfully animated by Fred and George in glowing airborne lines) Ron had slipped overboard and fallen soundlessly into the sea. Draco waited a few minutes after he noticed the missing redhead before charming their plates clean and bidding his crew goodnight.

His cabin took the breadth of the stern and was oriented around a single wide window that gave Draco a panoramic view of the ocean whenever he needed it. He opened the central pane and tossed down a ladder, throwing himself after it and climbing into the night.

 

***

 

In the dark, silent waters beneath the Imperator Ron dove. His tail thrashed steadily, his eyes narrowed to slits. He reached ahead of himself with his hands, smoothing his profile and making a lethal missile of his own flesh. He sensed movement near him in the water - below and to the right, and spun quick as lighting. He had the struggling fish in his hand before he even realized he'd made the decision to change his course.

He swam slowly to the surface, looking up to the dim glow of lanterns above the water. Over and over he lifted the fish to his mouth and tore away great hunks of it, clouding the water with cold blood. The few bites he'd taken of Hermione's cooking sat like coiled poison in his belly and he chased them away with the cleansing taste of salt and iron.

He scrubbed scales away from his cheeks and picked them carefully out of his teeth before gliding around the ship in a lazy circle, full and satisfied. When he heard the splash of a heavy rope hitting the water he ducked and headed aft.

Draco's hair blazed like the sun, lit from behind by the tremendous window of the Captain's cabin. He was seated on a broad plank that hung from the stern window, a swing that sat low enough to let him dangle his feet in the water.

 

***

 

Draco had always loved the sea but now he knew it better. He knew the way the smell of salt changed when it was being carried on skin instead of the breeze, he knew the sound of the ocean's surface parting almost silently as a hand reached out of the water. Ron hauled at the rope beside the swing, drawing himself up like a pail from a well and spilling himself on the swing next to Draco.

"You're cold," Draco said as he pulled Ron against himself, unmindful of the water streaming from the smooth skin into his dry shirt.

"You're warm," Ron said with a smile, lowering his mouth to Draco's throat and licking at the pulse point. "You're always warm," he whispered, feeling the heat increase against his lips as he sucked and bit and drew blood to the surface of the skin. Draco produced an incoherent little sound and his warm arms were around Ron's shoulders, one hand tugging at his hair and tipping his head back so Draco could kiss him harder, tongue sweet and hungry.

Draco cast his mind back to the first time he had seen Ron after Hogwarts. He remembered the frail arms and deep bruises and mottled skin of a rawboned youth in an absurd globe of glass, trapped in greening water and tortured by his father. He had twitched fitfully in his sleep, and upon waking had cringed away from the sight of Draco's white-blonde hair.

The look of revulsion on Ron's face and the futile retreat had sickened Draco, and he had only been slightly surprised to find that he valued Ron's life more than Lucius's. It was easy, after that, to find the Weasleys, ally himself to them, and aid in the utter destruction of his father.

Watching Ron heal had been harder. It took months for him to build the stamina to swim more than an hour or so at a time, and some of the scars would never fade.

There was, of course, the impassable gulf between them. Draco could dive into deep waters and hold his lover but he couldn't follow him through the waves. Ron could climb on deck and rest in shallow water but he couldn't stay for long before the weight of his own body became unbearable.

And Ron was heartbroken over the loss of his magic. Draco could see it wearing on him more every day and didn't know what could be done to help or how long it would take for the presence of magic, the casual ease with which Hermione levitated a cauldron or Bill spelled a mend in a sail, to push Ron away completely.

But for now his arms were around his lover, his mouth full of the taste of him. They had each other and the dark night and the cold ocean, and for the moment that would have to be enough.


	2. A hidden horizon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Imperator is attacked and Draco is taken hostage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter includes references to the transatlantic slave trade, descriptions of torture, and threatened sexual slavery and sexual violence. Please read with caution and mind the tags.
> 
> (and I promise this is the worst this fic gets, uphill after this)

Ron swam in his sleep, lazily circling the ship through the night. As such he was the first to hear the cannons cracking the silence of the morning but because of his low place in the water he couldn't immediately do anything to warn the others.

 

The great, booming sound was followed immediately by the terrifying noise of splintering wood - it was on the starboard side, opposite of where Ron was when the firing started. As soon as his mind had registered what was happening he dove beneath the Imperator to get a clear line of sight to their attacker so he could help the rest of the crew as soon as they were on deck. 

 

There was a scrim of fog drifting over the ocean that hid their attacker, at first - Ron couldn't see the smoke from the cannons or separate sails from the sky until a dark shape loomed terrifyingly close; their enemy had waited to fire until they were almost close enough to board.

 

The other ship was larger than the Imperator, with two batteries of guns and three decks - almost as though they were being perused by a ship of the line. A chill crept up Ron's spine - if these sailors were muggles they would be no challenge to Draco; they would be confounded and sailing for Spain in a trice, but if these were muggles they never would have been able to get so close without alerting the Imperator's magically augmented watch.

 

Hermione's voice suddenly rang clear over the disconcerting scene, cursing like a sailor and hissing like a cat she had clawed herself to the main deck ahead of everyone else. Ron couldn't help but grin as he saw her boldly swing her body over the railing and shriek "Reparo!" at the mass of splinters only feet above the waterline. She was haughty enough to believe that such a minor spell would work on such a massive hole and strong enough that it actually did.

 

The rest of the crew wasn't far behind her - soon the railing was bristling with bared wands but none of the wizards on board had anything to aim at - the imposing ship only yards away was rocking in the mist, only the gentle creak of ropes and the soft whisper of slack sails letting them know that she was a real ship instead of a vision. 

 

Draco was spitting mad. The great hole in his ship had been mended but he was mortally offended that the injury had occurred in the first place.

 

"Show yourselves, cowards" he bellowed across the narrow stretch of water. 

 

There was no response.

 

"Hermione!" He barked and she was casting before he could finish saying her name. 

 

"Homenum revelio," she incanted, and soft green light flew from her wand to the high side of their attacker. It split into a dozen small balls and scribbled across the surface of the ship, alighting here and there and glowing fiercely where it stopped until there were nearly a hundred burning orbs marked out against the profile of the boat.

 

Draco waved a hand low behind his back and the twins peeled away from the railing to march below decks. He flicked his eyes toward Harry, who started scrabbling up the rigging into the crow's nest without question.

 

"Show yourselves before I sink you," Draco shouted, "I know you're there and I have no problem feeding your miserable rowboat to the waves."

 

Hermione was staring at the pattern of light she had made, a frown deepening between her brows. 

 

"You have until the count of ten and then I begin firing my cannons," Draco continued.

 

Hermione's lips moved almost noiselessly and her eyes darted across the glowing grid - something was wrong.

 

"One," Draco called as he gestured to Charlie and Neville, who prepared to cast strong shields.

 

"Two," he said, as Harry mounted his broom in the crow's nest.

 

"Draco," Hermione said softly.

 

"Three," he went on, ignoring her as he began to weave a complicated pattern with his wand on the deck below his feet.

 

"Draco, wait," she said, a bit more forcefully.

 

"Four," he shouted, sending her a glare for distracting him.

 

"Captain," she said, stepping into his pattern and destroying it, "there are too many lights."

 

And Draco faltered in his count as the second volley of cannon fire exploded from the other ship.

 

Everyone was in a sudden whirl of motion - Charlie and Neville cast their shields in the nick of time and most of the balls fell harmlessly into the sea around Ron, who was thoroughly forgotten by everyone on the ship at this particular moment and who suddenly realized he was, perhaps, not in the best tactical location right at that second. The balls that made it past the shields were frozen by Hermione and Harry.

 

"Fred, George - HOLD," Draco screamed. "Potter, get over them and start stupefying everyone on that damned ship!"

 

The confused twins pelted up the stairs, full of questions, to find Hermione putting out a small fire and Harry soaring over the attacker's mast, shooting down red bolts while Draco threw open the broom locker on deck.

 

"Any reason we're not returning fire, Malfoy?" Fred or George said as he grabbed a broom.

 

"After all, they're firing on us," George or Fred commented calmly as he kicked off after his brother.

 

"They're slavers," Hermione called, "we can't let their ship go down, it's full of innocent people!" And Draco was off as well, leaving Charlie, Neville, and Hermione to block the third volley. They managed to shield most of the ship but two balls made it through, one blasting away a portion of the railing and another blowing a hole in the wall of the crew cabins.

 

Harry was flying beautifully, as he always did, but his casting was confused, and Draco learned why when he pulled abreast of the dark-haired wizard. The crew of the mystery ship were under concealment charms; Draco could see them in vague outlines that barely stood out against the morning mist. Two bodies had fallen, stupefied, to the deck and their charms had worn off. They were well dressed, not shabby pirates but not navy either. 

 

And still they stayed infuriatingly quiet - the ship must have been under a powerful ward to stay so silent so long. The twins were the loudest things on this side of the battle - whooping as they dove and howling spells, where Harry was casting silently and Draco was simply trying to get his bearings. Soon the concealed sailors were sending up silent spells of their own - red and blue and, most terrifyingly, a vibrant acid green that shook Draco to his core and froze Harry in the air.

 

"Potter," Draco shouted, "get back to the Imperator and help there," two more cannon volleys had done more damage to his ship and Hermione was having trouble keeping up. "Fred, George, work up some wind - get us away from these curs!" The twins and Harry darted back to the ship; Draco was about to follow suit when a noise finally rose from the slave ship.

 

An invisible person was pulling a screaming child over to the railing of the huge boat - a little girl, shrieking in terror and locked in heavy chains. She struggled against the invisible hand that dragged her along the deck, wailing and kicking and Draco felt a freezing spike pierce his chest as she reached the edge and was pushed overboard.

 

At the same time two simultaneous volleys boomed from below and sent an avalanche of iron toward the Imperator - Draco didn't see it, but heard cracking and, worst of all, bubbling, as water surged into his ship.

 

But then the silence was back, though this time it was just the wind rushing in Draco's ears - he was diving fiercely, faster than should have been possible. Time seemed to have slowed to a crawl. Even as his ship was hit he was reaching for the fallen girl, holding an arm out to her, staring into her terrified eyes as the dark water rushed closer - then all he knew was a deep black night and all his worries faded away.

 

***

 

Ron had seen which way the wind was blowing when the Imperator didn't return fire after the first blast, and had swum to the side of the larger ship, looking for a way on deck to help in the fight - he had a hold of a rope and was starting to haul himself aboard when he heard the shrieks of the little girl and a terrible splash. Without a second thought he dove, the trail of bubbles her little body left behind her shining like a beacon under water. He was on her in a flash, her heartbreaking scream billowing from her lungs, muddied by the water - she was too scared to know she was wasting her air but before it could become a problem Ron had caught her under her arms and was charging toward the surface. Their heads broke through and the little girl's scream quieted to watery sobs as she clutched at Ron's shoulders with her chained hands. He took her around the back of the Imperator, out of the line of fire, and called out to the ship.

 

"Oi, a little help down here!" 

 

"We're a bit busy, mate," came Harry's tense voice.

 

"And we've got a scared kid down here, mate," Ron hollered back. Hermione pounded up to the railing on Ron's side and quickly cast a feather-light charm on the little girl, pulling her up to the deck without a word then running back to port.

 

Ron felt a prickle up his spine and dove. 

 

The ship was lower in the water than it should have been - much lower; a rank of portholes had been submerged and under the surface Ron could hear the insidious hiss of escaping air. He came up on the starboard side and was shocked at what he saw. On deck Hermione and Neville were casting furiously at a ship that wasn't there - it seemed like half the hull had been torn away, leaving only splinters. Harry, Charlie, Fred, and George were on their brooms, casting levitation charms and lightening charms and any charms they could think of to keep Neville and Hermione, who were terrible fliers, above the water. The little girl sat on the deck in shock, staring wide-eyed at the flying men and the sinking ship.

 

The other ship was nowhere to be seen. It had been looming and threatening them only half a minute ago and where it had been there was only a faint sheen of foam disturbing the dark surface of the water.

 

"Where's Draco," Ron asked, shakily, and it was only then that the crew realized their captain was missing.

 

***

 

Draco was on a ship and it smelled wrong. His head ached and his eyes saw only blackness but he knew the rolling feeling of cresting over the waves and the horrid stench of human misery.

 

He didn't know why he was in this dark, awful place, or why his head hurt, but his mind tried to swim dizzily back to consciousness. He heard a snatch of conversation, saw the blurry light of a candle, and fell back into blackness and silence.

 

When he awoke again it was with a stinging jaw and ringing ears - someone had slapped him hard across the face. He opened his eyes blearily and saw the hazy shape of a man in front of him; the shape wouldn't hold its focus, kept blurring away into the dark.

 

"I assure you, you'll be happier if you can keep yourself conscious than if I have to awaken you again," a sneering voice rumbled at him.

 

"There doesn't seem to be much to stay awake for," Draco spat, "I don't want to see the sorts of things this sort of ship has to offer."

 

A bucket of cold seawater drenched him, chilling him to the skin but clearing his mind and sharpening his vision. His hands were shackled in front of him, a chain running from his wrists to his ankles, another chain running up to a heavy iron collar that was fastened around his neck. He didn't know where his wand was. 

 

"Why not, Malfoy? It's just the family business to you, isn't it?" The man in front of him was taking shape - he was large. Broad but muscular, tall, and still blurry at the edges.

 

"Yes," Draco said, "and that's why I know I don't want to see anymore. I've seen enough slavery to last ten lifetimes." He was on some kind of hard, flat surface that made it hard to see where the other man stood - a table, perhaps at waist height.

 

"Well that's fitting," the big man said, "since you've take at least ten lives because of it."

 

"Twenty seven," Draco returned. "Twenty seven lives that would have eaten away the lives of hundreds or thousands of people who never could have deserved anything so awful." He rattled his chains and tried to sit up but found that he was bound to the table - the collar around his neck held him down and kept him from moving away as the other man stood over him.

 

"What do you know about deserving," the blurry man said, "everything you ever had was handed to you on a platter - what did you do to deserve your wealth? Your freedom?"

 

"Everybody deserves freedom. No one has to earn it, no one has the right to take it away." He was blinking hard and the dim, squalid cabin was becoming clearer. The smell of old blood was pervading his senses and the strange man was getting sharper, his face taking on a familiar cast.

 

He stepped closer to Draco and pressed a large hand over the bound man's chest, sliding from his sopping shirt to the base of his throat, where the collar stopped the movement. Draco slowed his breathing and did everything in his power not to flinch away from the sudden intimacy of that touch.

 

"But you get to decide who lives or dies? You get to brag about the dozens of men you've killed? The ships you've sunk with souls onboard?" He was handsome, with dark, curly hair and a strong jaw and straight nose. He leaned over Draco until only inches separated their faces and his warm brown eyes sparkled with malice as he sneered down at his captive.

 

"I waited until the ones who still _had_ souls were freed. The slavers took their lives in their hands when they decided that some humans weren't quite as human as them. It's blood purity all over again, all hate and rot."

 

"You seemed rather fond of blood purity when we were at school, Draco. Nothing like a born-again, eh? Have you really seen the light or are you just trying to get away from Daddy?"

 

"I was a bad person, now I'm trying to be a good one. Simple as that. It's a lesson I learned from Potter, when he saved my life."

 

"Oh, so you're just another fan - a simpering fool chasing the Gryffindor golden boy?" His hand tightened on Draco's throat beneath the collar, not choking but warning that he could.

 

"You know, it's great to catch up with school chums but I'm afraid I don't remember you at all. Where is all of this anger coming from? Did I toss a toad in your potion?" Draco's head hurt. He was chained to a table. He could see the face of this pompous, slaving, berk but had no idea who he was. What little patience he had had evaporated and what little caution he had was thrown to the winds.

 

The bigger man didn't react well to Draco's needling. The hand on Draco's throat clamped down and his other hand descended to Draco's face, covering his nose and mouth and holding them closed until the blonde was thrashing in his chains, struggling for air. The big man released him as Draco was starting to see black spots bloom before his eyes, and he gasped fitfully for breath.

 

"I may have taken my life in my hands when I threw in with the slave trade but you threw away your freedom when you started sinking our ships, Malfoy. You're mine now, maybe you just need a little while for that to sink in." He produced a large knife and Draco froze, his face an impassive mask except for a frantic shine he couldn't hide in his eyes.

 

"You're quite pretty, you know," he said as he slid the knife under Draco's shirt and slowly sliced open the front. He did it carefully, and slit the arms as well, pulling the shredded material out from underneath his captive when he had finished. "We sell most of our cargo bulk in the West Indies but sometimes we hold the pretty ones back." The knife moved to the top of Draco's breeches and began to cut them away as the bound man shivered but kept quiet. "Good teeth, nice face. It's a shame you've got these scars on your chest, and the Dark Mark certainly left a mess behind, didn't it?" He had pulled away the ruins of the breeches and was running his fingertips over Draco's body with a light, nauseatingly clinical touch. He paused over the thin marks from sixth year, and pulled Draco's arm straight to examine the remnants of the Mark. "Yes, I think that will do nicely," and before Draco knew it was happening the slaver had taken an iron from a stove behind him and pressed the burning metal into the void left behind when Potter killed the Dark Lord.

 

The pain was shockingly immense, and Draco thrashed against his chains trying to free himself from it; he screamed loud enough to tear at his throat and choked as tears overwhelmed him. Still the big man held his arm and kept the iron professionally pressed the same spot, searing his skin without letting the brand blur.

 

"Maybe this will help you remember me in the future, slave. You're now the property of MacLaggen Ltd." And when he pulled the brand away the letters "MCL LTD" were livid and weeping on Draco's skin.

 

"What the fuck," Draco gasped, "is a MacLaggen?" and then he was lost to the world once more.

 

***

 

He came to under another deluge of seawater, this time it ran down his arm and drove him into screaming consciousness as the salt settled into his burn.

 

He was on the floor and wearing different chains now - a bar kept his ankles spread, another locked his elbows back while his hands were locked close together in front of his stomach. The position was excruciating on the fresh brand, but he was able to rise to his knees without choking, as the collar now floated freely on his neck, a great, chafing, rusted ring. When his screaming stopped he could only moan and try to get his bearings. He was denied the opportunity as MacLaggen's huge hand twined itself in his long hair and pulled his head back. He remembered his nudity as MacLaggen kicked his knees apart and rested the toe of his boot under Draco's exposed groin. Draco tried to cringe away but stopped struggling when that boot lifted slightly, pressing into Draco's balls.

 

"Very pretty, very stupid," was MacLaggen's assessment. "But of course those two often go hand-in-hand. Be a good boy, Malfoy, or I'll take these," he ground his foot harder into Draco's crotch, "it'll raise the bids anyway if I do."

 

"What do you want," Draco growled.

 

MacLaggen laughed. "Some answers, of course. And to hurt you. I don't actually know. I don't think you have much to tell me and I don't think I can hurt you too much before I just won't stop and neither of us want that. I'd love to kill you but I'll love the money I get from selling you away to a brothel or an old lecher more." He ran a thumb over Draco's lips and Draco couldn't help but bite. MacLaggen roared and shoved him backward; he landed awkwardly, his pinned arms straining and spread legs bent. MacLaggen was straddling Draco before he could sit up, slamming the stick behind his back hard into the ground so it sent a shock of pain through his elbows and slapping his face until he tasted blood.

 

MacLaggen was panting by the time he came back to himself enough to stop. "You're too spoiled, blondie," he ground out. "Too much fight to make a good bedwarmer. What do you think, will they drug that out of you or will it be Imperius? Personally I'd want to see you addled and whining for your daily dose but maybe someone will want to curse you into being the perfect little cocksucker. Should we practice and see if you have it in you?"

 

Draco swallowed the blood in his mouth and forced himself to be still. "You talk a lot for someone who claims to want answers, MacLaggen."

 

The slaver barked out a laugh. "Fine, fine, now you want to be good." He stood up but didn't move away from Draco, putting on foot on the stick that bound his arms to keep him on the ground. "How do you find ships to sink?"

 

Draco snorted. "Magic, obviously." MacLaggen stepped on his branded arm, drawing a scream out of him before letting off. "You idiots use the same trade routes, it's not hard to realize that the ships are sailing back empty or figure out where they'll be," Draco was panting and red-faced but there was no point in keeping that information back; he was astonished to be asked something so blatantly obvious.

 

MacLaggen had a look of dull amazement dawning on his face. "That's... That's it?"

 

"What else would it be?"

 

"But how do you know they're not just traders?"

 

"If they were just trading they wouldn't be sailing out of slave ports in ships built to hold humans as cargo."

 

"But -" MacLaggen frowned. "Is that - there has to be more to it."

 

Draco couldn't help it. He looked at the plodding attempt at calculation writ large on MacLaggen's face and started laughing. And couldn't stop. He laughed until tears ran down his cheeks, then laughed until the slaver kicked his ribs hard enough that something cracked and he couldn't draw breath to laugh.

 

"Find another line of work, MacLaggen," he gasped. "You're too stupid for this one."

 

The slaver's face turned brick red and he crouched down over his captive. 

 

"How about ransom? If I sent your father your toe, or your hand, or your nose how much do you think he'd pay to get the rest of you back in one piece?"

 

And though it hurt Draco was able to laugh again.

 

"Nothing," he cackled. "My father bought and sold people, and profited from people like you. I killed him too."

 

MacLaggen's face, impossibly, deepened to purple. "Then you're of no use to me, and I have no room on my ship for useless mouths."

 

The big man reached down and grasped the bar separating Draco's feet and began to pull. Draco laughed and struggled as MacLaggen pulled him up a narrow set of stairs and into the blinding light of day. He laughed and tried to kick and twist away as MacLaggen pulled him across the stained, filthy deck of the ship. And finally he laughed as MacLaggen hauled him upright and shoved him backward over the railing. He was still laughing when his body hit the water and the tremendous splash drowned out the sound of his laughter.


End file.
